


Between Wake and Sleep

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark Castle, Dream Sex, F/M, Misunderstandings, Smut, wanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Rumple needs some time alone to indulge in the thoughts inspired by Belle's cleaning.





	Between Wake and Sleep

Rumple sighed as he closed the door to his bed chamber. He’d managed to control himself for almost a fortnight, but he needed relief. He paused, with his fingers on the clasps of his waistcoat and cocked an ear towards door. Belle had long retired for the night, but his guilt at what he was about to do made him double check. Once he was satisfied that his little maid had not decided on a midnight stroll to the library he let his fingers work the fastening of his clothing free. He even unlaced his boots by hand, a small act of penance for his depraved desires. The long, long minutes that it took to free each leg from the leather did nothing to quell his lust.

As he peeled the layers of leather and silk from his body Rumple entered a dreamlike state, similar to the trance-like state spinning could induce in him. Moments like this were the closest he got to restful sleep, as despicable as his actions during this time were, it was a true blessing, a peace that he’d long since thought was lost to his dark and fractured mind.

Naked now, he slipped into the bed and settled the thin cotton sheet over his lower half as his shoulders squirmed against the pillows at his back until he found a comfortable position. His fingers twitched against the sheet, a futile delaying tactic, as if he was going to change his mind, as if he was going to do the right thing. His hands stilled, and his eyes slid closed as he recalled the events of the day that had broken his resolve to never indulge his base desires again.

Belle had decided to clean the table in the great hall this morning. He’d barely been able to keep his spinning wheel turning as she bent over the table, swinging her hips in counter point to her sweeping arm. Singing softly to herself she’d worked her way around the surface, until she was on the other side, and inadvertently gave his roving eye a direct view of her cleavage. He’d fixed his eyes on his spinning at the time, but now he allowed his imagination the liberty he’d denied himself earlier. The self-loathing and guilt would come afterwards, would be waiting there come the dawn to blacken his mood even as the sun rose, but for now he shut such feelings away and let himself sink into fantasy.

He stroked the back of his left hand with the fingers of his right as he imagined taking Belle’s hand and pulling her gently into his embrace. His hands traced a path over his chest, the path along which he would beg for Belle to touch him. He could sometimes draw this out, taking time to map his chest, allowing himself to believe that Belle would enjoy the feel of his mottled, scaly skin, but this evening his hand slid rapidly down under the sheet to grasp his straining cock.

“Oh Belle!”

His eyes drifted open at the sound of the chamber door opening. Illuminated by the candlelight in the corridor Belle was a vision of beauty clad in a sheer robe. His mind was providing him with such a detailed vision of his obsession tonight. He felt no shame in stroking his cock slowly as her image stood before him, nibbling on her bottom lip. The breath stuttered in his chest as Belle bent forward and grasped the bottom of her nightgown. Time slowed, as she drew the fabric upwards over her body, revealing strong pale legs, the dark bush of her sex, a softly rounded stomach that became taunt as her arms extended above her head to clear the fabric from her breasts, and finally dropped the gown onto the floor behind her. He raised his eyes to her face and sighed; “You are a dream.”

His dream Belle smiled shyly, but her step was bold and sure as she moved to the foot of the bed. She crawled onto the mattress and made her way slow to him, her breasts rocking gently with each movement. She paused once her hands were level with his feet and sat back on her heels. With dainty fingers she pinched a fold of sheet where it was tented over his toes and began pulling it towards her. He shivered as his lower half was reveal. The hand on his cock moved to cover rather than caress, but Belle’s eyes were as hungry for the sight of him as he had been for her, so he lay his hands lax on his thighs and let her take from him what she had so generously gifted to him. The sheet whispered over his toes and Belle blew out a breath; “You are wonderous.”

Rumple blinked rapidly, his dreams of Belle had never spoken before. He relished the change, the sound of her voice speaking so sweetly to him was sheer bliss. His hands trembled as he reached towards her, inviting her to come closer, in waking moments he would not dare to be so bold, but here in this grey space between the worlds of slumber and wakefulness he knew he was safe.

Belle moved up the bed until she was kneeling in between his splayed legs, there was a breathless moment of anticipation before her hands touched the outside of his calves. Rumple’s head rolled back with a groan that turned into a gasp as Belle’s hands rubbed up his legs and moved to his thighs. His cock twitched when her thumbnails grazed the sensitive skin on the inside of his legs. He surged forward and caught her arms in his hands and pulled her towards him. She moved easily to straddle his legs, her hands drifted over his chest until she gripped his shoulders and rolled her hips. Rumple shuddered at the hot, wet slide of her sex over his, Belle was as affected by the contact if her soft groan was anything to judge by.

Hands slipped over sweat damp skin; pale clutched scaled, scaled gripped pale. Nails and claws nipped and scratched. Words had not featured much in this dream, but language was beyond either of them, gasps, sighs, moans and groans were the sounds that expressed their mutual pleasure. A thrust and grind of hips brought them together. Blue eyes widened and held amber in a long gaze. Tentatively movement began again, a gentle swell that built and built until the pleasure could no longer be contained and crashed washing them both in bliss.

Rumple held Belle close. To sated to keep his eyes open but scared to let her go because at some point very soon this dream would evaporate, and he would be left alone, a hollow shell ready for the guilt and bitter loathing to fill.

A gentle hand caressed his hair; “Let’s lay down, Rumple, we’ll be more comfortable.”

He blinked at her, and really looked at her. She was smiling at him fondly, with a touch of exasperation in her eyes, the exact look she got when he’d not been listening to her properly. It was an expression that not of his dreams had accurately reproduced.

“Belle. You are really here?”

She giggled; “Of course I am.”


End file.
